Chicano Poet

Wednesday, August 04, 2004

The Story Of The Leaf

My grandson tells me
the story of the leaf,
the story he knows well.

He’s two years
and four months old,
so the story

is still in its infancy.
He tells the story
complete with hand motions.

He crashes the leaf
into his left palm,
and makes a leafy, screeching noise.

Perhaps we’ve been
watching too many TV car races
on Sunday afternoon.

But, afterwards we always
take him to the park to run and play.
So that someday he’ll perfect the story of the leaf.


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